Breaking the Fourth Wall
by pandorathexplora
Summary: Sam wakes up to a room full of mysterious strangers that all call him a strange name....his real one. Confused!Sam Confused!Dean Awesome!Story. Loosely based on Monster at End of Book
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: Sam wakes up to a strange room filled with people who all know him and call him a very strange name. Confused!Sam Confused!Dean Awesome!Story. Loosely inspired by "Monster at the End of the Book" :)**

**Genre: Humor, action**

Breaking the Fourth Wall

Sam awoke to a morning thrown asunder – his motel room was missing a wall and twenty strangers stared at him in wait.

"Well?" one man in a blue cap said to him.

Sam blinked, still half-asleep.

The man in the blue cap sighed and dropped his head, shouting "Cut!"

A series of groans filled the room as the crowd dissipated. Sam immediately awakened fully, throwing the bed covers off and looking for his brother for help.

"What the hell is going on?" Sam shouted to the man in the blue cap.

"Forget your line again, Sasquatch?" Dean said, appearing from around one wall and eating something leafy.

Sam's eyes darted around the room. "What are you talking about? Who are these people?" In the corner of the room, he spotted another stranger polishing one of his guns. Leaping over the bed, Sam snatched it away and frantically pleaded for answers, "Dean! What the hell is going on and why the hell are you eating a… salad?!"

Dean's mouth stopped mid-chew, furrowing his brow and looking in the direction of the man in the blue cap.

"Don't look at me, Jensen, he's all yours," the man said, raising his hands up to gesture his uninvolvement. "I've had enough of your pranks, already. I'm not falling for another," and with that the blue cap left.

While surveying his strange surroundings, Sam looked fiercely down into his brother's eyes and asked one last time, "Dean. What. is going. on?"

Dean swallowed his food in one painstaking gulp.

"Dude," his big brother said in an equally low voice. "Scene's over. What, are you a method acting, now?"

Sam stepped back. Had his brother gone insane?

He looked up and saw what should've been the outside of the motel appeared more like the inside of a studio. Light fixtures were carefully being balanced and secured by a low-level worker while bumbling interns paid their rent with coffee requests.

His hunting instinct quickly surmised all potential dangers, noting a sharp knife on what looked like a buffet table littered with donuts and coffee. On one end of the studio, an imposing looking man sat comfortably in a director's chair, the letters "Kr" peeking out from behind his back.

Sam's head suddenly swam with supernatural explanations.

"Trickster," he muttered, stepping back from his brother.

"No. Jensen," Dean corrected his bewildered friend in front of him. "Hello? Earth to Jared? What the hell is up with you?"

Sam stumbled over some loose cables as he continued his journey backwards, his eyes glued on his big brother, who scratched his head in confusion. Sam was entrapped in another trick and he had to figure out an escape…fast.

******

**Well, this was just a little fun romp into a "what if" story...if you want more, I'll add the ending tonight! Otherwise, it's a stand alone. Oh, and I'm currently adding on to the story "Falling Away from Me" for all you dark Sammy fans (I'm looking at you, darksupernatural) So that'll be up shortly, too! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! Due to requests, I have part 2 of Breaking the Fourth Wall up. It started as just a fun romp into having the boys break out of the supernatural universe and into the "real world" but now it's going somewhere else. If you like it, I'll write more!**

**Then:**

_Sam stumbled over some loose cables as he continued his journey backwards, his eyes glued on his big brother, who scratched his head in confusion. Sam was entrapped in another trick and he had to figure out an escape…fast._

**Now**:

_**_

"Ackles! Break's over. Let's go!" a voice boomed from across the studio.

Sam nervously glanced over in the direction of the sound, where a balding man shot Dean a frustrated glare and tapped his wrist-watch impatiently.

"What are you two waiting for?"

"Uhhh, Eric," Dean said over his shoulder, eyes still locked on the retreating figure before him. "We've got a little situation here. Give me a sec!"

Sam felt his world spinning as he watched the man that looked like his brother carefully place his salad plate on a table labeled "Props" next to him. He watched as Dean's hand casually passed over two semi-automatics and a silver blade, and his heart stopped for a second.

Without thinking, Sam's hand shot to his back pocket and pulled out the gun he kept there for emergencies. Sam aimed it directly at Dean but kept it low and directly between them so that the dozens of people did not see what he was doing.

"You look like him, but you're not him," Sam said barely above a whisper.

Dean's eyes widened and he didn't hesitate to put both hands up in defense.

"Woah, now, easy there," he replied.

Sam used the gun to motion towards the door that exited out into an empty lot. "Walk," he ordered.

Dean smirked and rolled his eyes, but Sam cocked the gun to punctuate the severity of the situation.

"Really?" Dean said, eyes widening.

"Let's go."

"Hey, Eric!" Jensen yelled, his breath cut short by a gun now pushing dangerously into his stomach.

"Don't try it," Sam warned under his breath.

"Chill, will you?" Dean said out of the side of his mouth. "We can't leave without an explanation."

Sam lowered his eyes to the gun in his hand. Dean nodded his understanding and continued to the director, "Gonna go take a walk. Be right back!"

With that, the two brothers escaped into the chilling wilderness of a studio parking lot, leaving a very angry looking "Eric" to massage the bridge of his nose, attempting to push back the headache that was sure to come.

"Prima-donnas," he sighed. "Take twenty, people! This could take a while."

**

Instead of the usual dusty motel lot, Sam and Dean stepped out into the middle of what looked like a trailer park.

"What the…" Sam's eyes squinted against the stinging bright sun. Although it was bright and their clothes were more suited for summer months, the air chilled Sam's skin and bit at his exposed arms.

"Yeah, Canada sucks. Can we go back inside, please?" Dean asked, annoyed.

"Not until I get some answers," Sam said, pushing his brother forward, unsure of exactly where he was taking him.

"Where are we going, Jared?" Dean asked, as if reading his mind. "Did the long hours finally get to you or what?"

Sam ignored him, keeping an eye on the fumbling mixture of old and young people that twittered about the lot. Everyone seemed to have somewhere to go, carrying cameras, cables, papers, and cell phones from point A to point B.

"Yo! J-man! Wake up!" Dean snapped around, stopping in front of a trailer that blocked them off from the chaos around them.

Sam brought himself out of his thoughts, repositioning the gun directly at Dean's heart. He wasn't actually sure he could shoot him, but the gun gave him the security of knowing he held the cards. He was bound to figure out this world no matter what.

"Put the gun down," Dean exclaimed, his hands at his sides casually. "This has gone on long enough."

"What has?" Sam said, cocking his head to the side, unsure of the next step.

With a movement faster than his eyes could follow, Dean snatched the gun away and pushed Sam away with his other hand.

"Man, what is _with_ you?!" Dean shouted. "Are you preparing for the next scene or something?! I went with you on this for a bit, thought you were just pulling a prank on the guys, but now, no one's even here."

Dean scratched his neck with the tip of the gun. "No one's even watching, so what is this?" Dean studied Sam's face for any kind of smile or crack, but all he saw was Sam's increasing terror at how he handled the gun.

"Dude, I mean, you're acting like this gun is freakin' real!" Without warning, Dean tested his theory out and put the barrel to his own head.

"Dean! Stop!"

With a gentle click, Sam's life reeled forward before him, his thoughts struggling to capture, in that split second, the darkness of another death. Dean's death.

"Bang!" Dean said, eyes large and waiting for any reaction.

"Christ," Sam breathed, body folding over in relief.

Dean twirled the gun around his finger. "It's fake, if that's what your wondering." Dean waited for the usual laughs from his counterpart, a slap on the back, a sigh that started with a _Got you!_ and ended with a cold beer.

But to his surprise, Sam remained rolled over, shaking in genuine terror. His hands stayed planted on his knees, holding his body up from the shock of Dean's actions.

"Jared, man, it was just a joke," Dean said, inching closer to Sam's convulsing body. He looked around for help from someone, anyone, that might have witnessed the action, but all the crew members were out of sight.

"Look, if you're about to spew, I am NOT holding your hair," Dean said, trying to calm him down, but Sam only reacted with coughs and more chilling silence.

Dean brought the gun into Sam's line of sight, forcing him to see it for what it was.

"Dude, look. It's just plastic. Nothing's gonna happen. Jared," Dean pat Sam's back nervously, unsure of how to comfort another man. "You'll be okay."

Sam finally responded. Perhaps that's what he needed to hear. Lifting his head up slowly, Dean smiled out of the side of his mouth and was about to think "Not so bad, now, was it" but was cut off when he saw Sam for what he was.

"Dean, what's happening?" Sam muttered, raising his vision to lock with Dean's.

Dean stumbled as he tripped backwards, in terror, shock from what he saw. Staring back at him was the man he knew, but not. Beneath dark bangs and tears that shivered and crawled down Sam's cheek, two unnaturally dark eyes stared back. Black even.

"Something's wrong. I can feel it," Sam straightened up, now seeing his own terror reflected in Dean's stance. "And why do you keep calling me Jared?"

**

**So do you want more? I have an idea of what's going on with Sam (a.k.a. Jared) and it should get more fun from here! Just let me know what you think! :) **


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys! Sorry I've taken forever to continue this story. Here's part three! There are a few more chapters coming. I'll try to get them up sooner!!! Thank you for all the reviews so far. This has been really fun, just getting into the heads of Jared and Jensen.**

Then:

_Dean stumbled as he tripped backwards, in terror, shock from what he saw. Staring back at him was the man he knew, but not. Beneath dark bangs and tears that shivered and crawled down Sam's cheek, two unnaturally dark eyes stared back. Black even._

_"Something's wrong. I can feel it," Sam straightened up, now seeing his own terror reflected in Dean's stance. "And why do you keep calling me Jared?"_

**

NOW:

Dean stood, frozen as he stared at Sam. Tears welled beneath Sam's completely black eyes, as he straightened up and took a step forward for support from his brother. Perhaps the whole day was a dream? Maybe Sam had just fallen into another strange vision and the studio, the crew, the lights and prop tables had all been a part of some demon's tricks.

When he stepped forward, Dean's flinch proved otherwise.

"What the--?!" Dean cried out, shooting both his hands up, palms out, in a defensive maneuver. He still held the prop gun in his hand, but it lay limp hanging by its trigger around Dean's thumb.

"Dean, it's me, what are you --?" Sam began.

"What the hell? Your eyes! No fuckin' way!" Dean continued to stumble back. Stealing a glance at his surroundings, Dean found only trailers and concrete, empty lots. There would be nobody to witness these events. "Of all the times for NO ONE to be around! Come on!"

"Dean, look at me," Sam approached his older brother.

Dean's head spun around, his body following in suit, ignoring the six-foot four clusterfuck going on behind him.

"This is NOT happening," Dean mumbled to himself, walking away from Sam and towards the set, stepping over random cables.

"Dean! Where are you going?" Sam shouted, frozen in his spot.

"And I was supposed to have a day off tomorrow, but no," Dean emphasized the syllable in no, waving his arms in the air. "Nothing normal can happen on this set." He was careful to avoid another camera cable beneath him.

"What are you doing? Hey, wait up!" Sam called as Dean continued his rant.

"Of all the shows, I get to be on the one where the shit's actually _real_. First, the bloody bitch in Jim's trailer mirror. Then, the missing interns. Oh, not to mention the temperature dropping and that midnight howling – "

"Dean, listen to me," Sam walked on Dean's heels.

"No!" Dean barked back, clenching his fists as he resolved to ignore the person behind him, once again stepping over a black, snake-like cable. "I can't hear you!" he insisted, putting two fingers in his own ears. "La la la la la," he chanted to himself, forcing himself to think of something else, like why there were so many cables laying around.

You would think that with so much help on the set, somebody would see the danger and pick up these damn things! Jesus, with so many things looking like snakes, you would think that Jared would be freaking out much more often than --

"Dean!"

Suddenly, a once motionless cable disconnected itself from lifelessness and curled in front of Dean's footsteps. Caught completely unaware, the tip of Dean's shoe became ensnared in the electrical creature, causing Dean to reel forward and lurch onto his shoulder before his face could hit cold cement. If it weren't for the years of training in how to take a fall, he would have surely needed some stitches.

"Oh God, I'm sorry!" Sam said rushing to his side, genuine guilt in his voice. "Dean, I didn't mean to – that cable just –God, are you okay?"

Dean sucked in a breath and felt the looming presence above him. He knew now that walking away wasn't ever going to solve anything. It never had in the past, so why start now? Shaking his head and pain from his shoulder away, Dean opened his eyes to another chapter in their freaky life so far.

Sam eyes met Dean's frustrated gaze with concern and, more importantly, their normal hazel color.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dean said, tasting the copper from where he bit his tongue, "but first, let's get one thing straight."

Releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding, Sam smiled in relief.

"Name's Jensen. You're Jared. And welcome," the tired hunter stopped to push himself onto his elbows, "to the set of _Supernatural_."

With that, he forced a toothy grin and prepared himself for a long explanation.

"Now, help me up, Sasquatch," Jensen said, reaching a hand out. "I'll explain what I know, but first we have to get you someplace safe."

"Right," Jared nodded.

_Goodbye, day off_, Jensen thought to himself.

*****

Sneaking around a crowded television lot unseen was one thing. Sneaking around as the six foot something stars of said lot was another.

Still, they managed to do it, careful to avoid the more heavily populated areas until they managed to reach the only place that the cast and crew wouldn't find them. Once discovered missing, everyone would be searching the boys' most frequented hang outs – trailers, nearby restaurants, and even their own house.

Pulling up to their destination, Jared's face showed no surprise until he saw the sign.

"The Happy Hunting Inn?" Jared inquired.

"It's the cheapest one around here," Jensen said firmly. "Thought it was appropriate, too." Jensen muffled a chuckle. "You know, Vancouver's apparently known for their hunting." Suddenly amused, he asked, "Ooh, ooh, guess what animal."

"I dunno," Jared replied.

"Come on, guess!"

"De-I mean, Jensen. I don't know, I don't really care," Jared said. Seeing the dejected look on Jensen's face, he submit, "Umm, fine. Is it moose?"

"Wrong! Bear! Crazy, right? I thought the same thing, y'know, with it being Canada and all and moose being, like, their freakin' national animal, but– " Jensen tightened his grip around the wheel as he spoke. Jared knew that his brother's rambling was typical of his nerves. Dean, or whatever he wanted to be called, had something on his mind.

"You okay?" Jared asked.

Eyes locked on the neon sign above his windshield, Jensen held onto the wheel as if it was the only sturdy thing in the world.

"No," he responded.

Jared was surprised at his brother's honesty. It usually took hours to get his brother to open up about his feelings so quickly, and that was only after refusals of "chick-flick" moments and obligatory tough facades. This was strange.

"We're just going to go inside, and sort this one out like we always do," Sam reassured him.

"Yeah? Like we always do?" Jensen smiled and choked out a laugh, stealing a glance at his passenger to see if he found that comment just as ridiculous. Clearly, Jared was not sharing in his nervous laughter.

"What?" Jared asked, his brow furrowed.

"Cause this…I mean, you," pointing outside at the Inn, "that! Just like an episode? I mean, HA!"

Nothing.

"Ughhh, nevermind. I'll get the room. You want a beer?" Before he could respond, "I'm getting us some beer."

Without waiting for a response, Jensen left the borrowed Chevy, a 1998 Silverado, running as he rushed inside to rent a room for the night.

Jared let his head fall back onto the head rest, still not accustomed to their strange new ride. Apparently, the "long explanation" that his brother promised him included the Impala's fate, as well.

TBC.

**So what do you think? I know where this is going, and it's kinda funny, but I welcome any input as to where you want this to go, too!**


	4. Chapter 4

_Note to my readers: Wow, thank you so much guys for all of the reviews! I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to add more. Real life's been pretty crazy these past few months, but hopefully I can get back into the swing of things. I have the story pretty much all laid out in my head, now it's just a matter of getting it out there. _

_Then: _

_Without waiting for a response, Jensen left the borrowed Chevy, a 1998 Silverado, running as he rushed inside to rent a room for the night._

_Jared let his head fall back onto the head rest, still not accustomed to their strange new ride. Apparently, the "long explanation" that his brother promised him included the Impala's fate, as well._

Chapter 4

Jensen returned quickly with two keys to their room and a six pack of El Presidente. The sun's rays streaked across the room, slicing the dusty, wallpapered room with bits of yellow and warmth. Soon it would be dark.

"Sit. Drink."

Sam obliged, snagging a long-neck bottle out of its case and admiring the familiarity of it all.

With one deep breath, Jensen looked up to the ceiling and scratched the back of his head.

"Who am I?" Jensen asked, bluntly.

"What?"

"Who. Am. I." Licking his lips, leaning forward in anticipation, Jensen clarified, "as in, who do you think I am?"

"You said Jensen."

"Right, are you sure?"

"Yeah, I think."

"You think? Or you know?"

"Know."

"No?"

"No, I mean, yes, I know. I don't know," Sam lifted his eyes to the ceiling. "I'm clueless. To be honest, I don't know who I'm supposed to be in this world."

"This world?" Jensen raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, this world. I don't know what to believe. I know what my memories tell me to believe, but what? Between evil angels throwing us in alternate corporate realities, good angels sending us through time warps, and Tricksters landing us in god-forsaken TV lands, it's all I can do to say I don't know. So yeah, Dean…yes, DEAN, because that's how I know your name, in this world, I'm somebody else."

Jensen's mouth dropped. Sam stopped.

"What?" is all the taller one could say.

"It's true then," Jensen's voice sounded determined.

"What's true?" Sam asked, holding his breath.

"You think you're Sam."

"Dean, I mean, Jensen, I…"

The man with the cropped top, vintage brown leather jacket, and stern green eyes raised a hand in dismissal, standing to make a point. It was all Sam could do to keep his heart from pounding outside of his chest, as he closed his own mouth in wait.

"Hold it. Let me finish. I said you _think_ you're Sam, and with the way things are going on the set," Jensen paused, afraid of what he was about to say, "You probably are."

******

The yellow streaked walls had long disappeared, replaced now by the original motel interior – dismal and cracked, while the moon peered through, hoping to sneak a glance at the freakshow within.

The only real light in the run-down motel room came from a 1970s style lampshade, whose single lightbulb cast an eerie luminescence along each young man's body. Each brother sat on one side of the motel beds, one to the left and one to the right of the lamp stand, facing each other. Well, almost facing each other with their heads in their hands, mirror images in mannerism and thought, thinking to themselves, _How the hell is this happening right now?_

"So you're telling me we're stars of a TV show?" Sam repeated for the second time, head still cradled in his hands.

"Yes."

"But you say that this TV show is not too popular," Sam continued.

"Yes, well no."

"No?"

"Well, we have a pretty loyal fanbase," Jensen responded.

"Um, good?"

"Sometimes, yeah. Kind of crazy," he said curtly.

Sam's eyebrows rose up in sudden awareness, but still a bit confused.

"Don't ask. It can get…a little weird," Jensen continued, hands tightening around the beer neck, and taking a sudden swig.

"Right," Sam said. That was probably a conversation best left for another time. "But what about this supernatural stuff you said was getting real? You said that the strange occurrences, the freakiness that are in the episodes actually happen?"

Jensen nodded, eyes staring blankly as if he still didn't believe what he was saying either.

"Actors are actually seeing ghosts on the set?"

Jensen nodded once more, eyes avoiding contact.

"Yes."

"And workers, crew members, have gone missing?"

"Yep." Another swig.

Sam continued the questions, just like any other hunt. Research first. "And somebody witnessed a Bloody Mary apparition in their mirror? A guy named Jim?"

"You know him as Bobby."

"He's here, too? Holy shit."

"That's something Sam would never say," Jensen mumbled into his beer, still dazed at the events that were unfolding. Sam stared at him, confused.

Jensen clarified, "You know…shit…with the cursing. You can't---aww forget it," and with that he strolled to the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind him.

"De- Jensen, wait, what are you doing?"

"My taxes, what the hell do you think I'm doing?"

"Wait, you didn't tell me what else happened. Is that all?"

The door clicked, lock firmly in place. Sam was relentless. He wasn't giving up the conversation. He didn't do it when Dean put his walls up in the past. He wasn't going to let him put a wall up now – even if it was a bathroom door.

"Dean. Are those the only things that you can remember? What was that outside with you and me? By the trailers?"

Sam knocked on the door. He could hear heavy breathing on the other side.

"You looked like you had seen a ghost, Dean!"

"Give a man some privacy," Jensen's voice was muffled by the door. His annoyance, however, was not.

"No, man. What is it?" Sam placed a fist against the doorframe, holding himself together. "There's something you're not telling me. I know it."

_I can feel it again_, he thought.

Sam waited for what seemed like a minute, two minutes maybe.

"Dean? Jensen?"

No response. As he stood there at the doorframe, a small gnat crept onto Sam's neck, and he slapped it away. Upon pulling his hand back, he realized that the tickle he felt had not been an insect, but a tiny drop of liquid. Dark red, almost black.

"What the…?" Sam said, staring at his palm with the slippery residue. It was slimy and smooth, cool to the touch. It almost felt like ink. He started to look up, when suddenly he heard a crash.

"Dean? Dean?!" Sam pounded against the door with his fist, his heart equally loud against his eardrums.

The door remained locked and he shuttered at the thought of anything supernatural happening within their very bathroom. His brother was a hunter in Sam's world, but who knew what skills this Jensen character had here.

A single groan of pain came from behind the closed door, and that was all Sam needed to hear before the door came flying off its hinges.

"Get out of here," a fallen Dean sputtered out through clenched teeth, his right arm cradling his left hand. Sam quickly fell to his knees, unsure of what to do. The window behind the toilet had been broken in, while the removable showerhead wavered in the tub as if it had just been given life and was holding onto its dying breaths. Meanwhile, it looked like Dean was trying to nurse a bloody hand. "I don't know if it's coming back. Go…get out…"

Ignoring him, Sam shouted, "Jesus, Dean, what did you do?!"

Eyes quickly surveying the damage, Dean finally breathed relief that it was safe. "What did I do?" Dean gasped, air coming back into this lungs. "What did _you_ do?"

They each stared back at the bathroom door in astonishment, the hinges broken in half while the door lay lifelessly on the floor behind them.

"Add this to the list," Dean said, still feeling the sharp pains of his hand.

"I'll get you some bandages," Sam said, ignoring Dean's words as he was preoccupied with only one thought at the time. "Maybe some ice.."

"This is just one other _freaky_ thing off the set," Dean said, mentally checking off his hand and the bathtub showerhead, aware that Sam was barely listening.

"There's probably some alcohol under the cabinet. Hot iron could cauterize…how bad is it?" Sam rambled on.

"I thought you'd be the last thing on that list. And then this. In-freakin-credible," Dean continued.

Sam froze. "What did you just say?"

Dean propped himself up on his forearms. A deep sigh in his chest.

"I said I thought you'd be the last on the list. Yeah, it was you, Jared."

Stillness answered.

"Besides you thinking that you're a fictional character," Dean paused. "I mean, you did something that wasn't…"

The cheap fluorescent lighting flickered.

"That wasn't what, Jensen?"

"That wasn't …normal."

*****

_To be continued. Note to readers: Tell me where you want this to go. I love hearing back from you all! _


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Wow, thank you all for all of the reviews! I'm so sorry that it's taken me forever to add on to this, but now that I'm officially on break until January, I'll have some time to end this. I've had this story in my brain forever and I can't wait to see you what you all think of this. **

_Then: "It was you, Jared. Besides you thinking that you're a fictional character. I mean, you did something that wasn't…"_

_The cheap fluorescent lighting flickered._

"_That wasn't what, Jensen?"_

"_That wasn't …normal."_

Now:

Sam watched as his now bandaged brother rose from the motel bed, a grimace and on his face.

"We have to go," Dean said. The pain from the earlier bathroom incident had subsided, but his frustration remained.

"Where are we going now?"

"We're getting answers," Dean replied. Dean shivered at the memory of the creature that had attacked him not moments before. No bigger than a large housecat, the silvery feline creature had crawled in through the bathroom window as Dean had attempted to get his head straight. So many problems were piling up inside of his brain at that point that he was too slow to act when a pair of razor-sharp claws swiped at his face. The whole fiasco had happened so fast, and before Dean knew it, he was throwing the creature against the bathroom shower-head, where it held on with an almost human-like grip.

Dean would've dismissed it as a cat, but the eyes were too slanted, the claws were too sharp, and the fur felt like cold metal to the touch.

"Getting answers, huh? About that monster in the bathroom?"

"About everything, Jared! You, the ghosts on set, that…cat….thing! This is too much for us to handle. We're going to talk to somebody that knows about this kind of stuff."

Sam scratched his head, but followed closely behind his brother. They approached the abandoned truck, a 1998 Silverado that belonged to Dean's alias "Jensen", and Sam shot off one final question before they hopped in.

"And who would that be?"

Dean's only response was a frigid glare through the corners of his eyes. He opened up the old Silverado's driver-side door.

"Oh hell no, I thought you said everyone here was..."

The Silverado roared to life and the two men drove off in silence.

A half an hour later, the sun had already fallen below the horizon. A fresh, familiar aroma in the air signaled of the rain to come. The wind chill had other plans.

"Looks like it might hail out there," Dean said, peering out from window blinds. The walls around them boasted a style of wooden paneling from the 1970s. The living room furniture looked less department store and more Craig's List. Household decoration was limited to a Led Zeppelin poster, cheaply-framed and hanging near the entrance into the barren kitchen, and dust fell everywhere that a beer can didn't occupy.

"Clean much?" Sam asked Dean.

"Hey, this is your house, too, you know. We moved in together just a few months ago. You should've seen the place BEFORE I got here."

"I'm guessing you added that cute, angelic touch," Sam said, pointing towards the Zeppelin poster.

"That's Icarus, one of the few warriors that – "

"Would you two just get to the point," interrupted a single voice. "Why am I here?"

The down-to-earth voice matched the body that possessed it. Sporting a trucker hat, a pair of worn-in Timberland boots, and a black t-shirt that heralded, "I DO MY OWN STUNTS," the man of medium-build strode into the living room with as much confidence as the stick figures on his shirt.

"Bobby?" Sam nearly choked.

"Jared?"

"Jim!" Dean interrupted, before his friend could get in any more words.

Sam took a seat, not knowing he did so until after a few deep breaths. He felt relieved at the sight of a familiar partner in the hunt – Bobby, like a father to him for decades – but knew somewhere deep down that the person he was staring at could not be _the_ Bobby he knew so well. Instead, in this world, the man before him was just like Dean – a copy of the person he once knew.

"What's with him?" Bobby looked down at Sam's dazed and confused form.

"Long story. We need your help," Dean looked out the window while he spoke. "Things are getting weird. Weirder. Remember all that stuff that's been going on with our set?"

"Yes – wait, speaking of, shouldn't you two be _on_ the set?"

"Yes, well no, we took a break. Thing is, with all of the freaky things that have been going on around here -"

"Yeah?" Bobby raised an eyebrow, waiting for more.

"Well, it just got stranger. You see, well…umm," Dean held the back of his own neck, searching for an end to that sentence. Giving up, he walked behind the chair where Sam was sitting, who still looked confused, but curious to see Dean's next move.

"Screw it," Dean gave up, gripping Sam's shoulder from behind him and boasting a smile that looked more defeated than happy. "Who am I, _Sammy_?"

"You're Dean," Sam stated, matter-of-factly.

"I'm Dean. Right. And who's that?" Dean pointed to the man in the trucker hat.

"That's Bobby. Well, I think that was Bobby before the Trickster or some angel put a freakin' spell all over this place. I don't know anymore. All I know is we have to find a way to put things back."

"Back to what, _Sam_?"

"Back the way things were, with you, me, and Bobby, hunting things." Sam sighed, and threw his hands up in the air as if he had just made the most rational statement in the world.

Dean and Sam stared at the other end of the room for a reaction.

The man that looked like Bobby responded with a quiet nod and salute. He then turned around and walked the other direction, mumbling something about "great prank" and "wait'll facebook hears about this one."

"Wait, Jim, come back! You're the only one I could think of since you experienced this same stuff! Jim? JIM!" Dean was about to race after his friend, when a strong hand gripped him by his arm.

"Dean! Listen!" Sam's grip tightened, as his older brother crouched down to his level, fearing another supernatural occurrence.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps on the upstairs floor stopped the three men short of their breath. Slow and steady at first, the footsteps grew louder and faster until they were accompanied by something much more terrifying.

Someone, or something, had a chainsaw.

"What the hell is going on up there?" Bobby said. "You've got construction workers or - "

Before he could finish his sentence, the ceiling cracked in two, and dust, wood, and debris fell on the floor between them. Instinctively, Sam leapt off of the chair and grabbed the closest weapon he could find – a fire iron from near the fireplace. Meanwhile, Dean flew in the opposite direction towards a small secretary desk that held a Smith and Wesson .357, which was illegal in Vancouver. Dean reasoned, however, that the recent happenings on the set gave him reason to push the legal limits.

The jarring sound of a chainsaw finally stopped, and all that was left was a searing hole in the ceiling above the three men. Dust and dirt still fell as the brothers surveyed their surroundings.

Bobby held a large kitchen knife in his hand, eyes peering out from below his cap, and he felt the stance surprisingly comfortable. It was as if he had been here before, and was going through the motions of attack preparation as naturally as anything. It felt so…

"Jim, look out!"

A silvery creature leapt out from the ceiling's hole, and it flew towards the older man with cat-like graces. Bobby ducked just in time to see the monster's needle-like tail graze the top of his head.

"What the?" Bobby barely let out the words when another blast went off by his head. Dean was shooting into the kitchen behind Bobby's head, aiming at the sickening creature that was leaping from countertop to table, lightning fast reflexes allowing it to dodge each bullet that came towards it.

"Jim, get behind that couch. Sam, cover me!" Sam didn't blink as his hunting instinct took over. He watched the hole in the ceiling as he backed up against Dean who was now slowly entering the kitchen. Sam held the fire iron in his hands until his knuckles went white, but then remembered his dad's words - the best hunter is the one that stays calm under pressure.

He slowed his breath and his heartbeat down, and while he wished he had a gun like Dean, he felt his brother behind him do the same.

"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty," Dean taunted quietly. "We know your 'roided ass is in here, so come on out!"

Immediately, the creature responded with what sounded like a lion's roar, and it leapt out from atop the fridge, sending several photos and notes that were once held there with magnets flying across the room with it.

The scene unfolded in a series of gunshots, papers, and claws. Sam struggled to get an eye on the mass of metallic fur that raced around him, while Dean aimlessly shot bullets that ricocheted off of either the creature or the cookware that hung around their heads.

"Are you hitting it?" Sam yelled, trying to find the source of the roars.

"I don't know! I can't see!"

And in that moment, as loudly and as quickly as the entire fiasco had begun, it stopped in midair.

The two men felt their movements slow and become frozen solid, as if they were being held in place by some invisible force.

Sam felt powerless with his entire body frozen, and he guessed the same for his brother. They remained in their attack positions, with Dean pointing his gun towards the creature's last spot in the kitchen sink, and Sam's right hand held the fire-iron high above their heads.

Even the papers and photos from the refrigerator had quieted their airborne dance around them, hovering slowly and then stopping in a haphazard position that defied gravity. Sam's eyes, the only parts of him that could move at this time, fell on the photo in front of him.

The picture was shot outside one of the _Supernatural_ sets, with a setting sun as the backdrop. The two men in the picture had a beer in each hand and a smile on their face. They had posed for this, Sam noticed, but nothing about it seemed forced. No lies, no dark secrets, no doubts plagued the picture. This universe's Dean and Sam weren't just friends, they were brothers.

"Well done, I must say. Very well done, indeed."

The sound of characteristically sarcastic clapping echoed from the living room behind them. Sam felt his pulse quicken at the sound of this unfamiliar voice, and Dean could only grunt a few non-coherent cuss words.

"Don't try to talk just yet. I'll release you when you promise to play nice."

A shadowy figure approached them slowly, and Sam could make out only a hood over a smug grin.

"Now, who wants to play?"

To be continued...


End file.
